Bad Apples: A Study in Deception, Desperation and Decay

Bad Apples

Bad Apples Rating

★★★★★

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In a West Country town in Somerset, England, lies the Ashton Brook Primary School. From the outside, it seems like any other upstanding educational institution. The teachers are set at a high-standard. The children wear uniforms. There is nobility in singing the school anthem.

But, for primary school teacher Maria Spencer, something is simmering internally. An unwavering pressure that seems to have no solution in sight.

The problem? Her irate and unruly student, Danny. He disrupts her classroom constantly. He picks fights with other children. He can’t be trusted on fields trips. He even throws a fellow pupil down the stairs. And somehow, the pressure of keeping control of Danny always falls into Maria’s hands, with no support from the school’s administration. Even the principal wants to wipe her hands of it.

To make matters worse? Maria’s formal school evaluation is scheduled for the following day. If Danny is there in the classroom, she knows she will look incompetent.

So, in a moment of deep desperation, Maria takes this matter into her own hands.

She tries to speak with Danny’s father. She is again rebuffed. Sensing parental neglect, she then finds Danny nearby, angrily smashing cars. After having to restrain him from bashing her car, he falls unconscious. Fearful of the consequences of having hurt a pupil, Maria quickly herds Danny into the backseat of her car, and brings him safely to her home, where she lives alone.

And this is where this dark comedy thriller becomes truly interesting.

 

Well-meaning Maria Spencer? Well, she does the unthinkable. She locks Danny in her basement, so he is absent in the classroom during her appraisal.

And, as she had surmised, things go swimmingly well for her. She takes control of her classroom. She can actually do her job without distractions. And the children begin to respect her. She not only gets an outstanding result, but her whole life is starting to improve – all while kidnapping Danny and secretly keeping him under lock and key in her basement.

This is such an interesting story that is not only packed with dark comedy, but that plays with visual metaphors. Like the constant meaning of the rotten, bad apple.

That if it appears in an orchard, it has the power to ruin the whole bushel.

How one bad decision has the power to root out and spread further decay in its aftermath.

And moreover; how the dark and sinister behaviour of ‘every man for himself’ can sometimes spiral and twist itself, to surprising and thrilling consequences.

This film is based on the Swedish novel ‘De Oönskade’, by author Rasmus Lindgren. It’s not only a tale of the modern struggles of the teaching profession, and the complexities surrounding community educational systems; but about the moral dilemma of its central character, Maria Spencer, and her constant need to be in control of something in her life. In this case? It’s of the system that is sadly, constantly betraying her.

This film, directed by fellow Swede Jonatan Etzler, is part dark comedy, part satire, and contain a myriad of dark Swedish cinema tropes.

A clean, saccharine-like parental community, desperate to hide a secret that could undermine their lives. Even if it means letting one wayward child pay the price.

Wicked human behaviour? Is cleverly depicted through static, poker-faced mannerisms, typically used when trying to keep sinister secrets, and to bring out the more satirical moments of irony in this film.

The environment of this film? Is hostile and gloomy. There is thunder constantly brewing. Lashings of rain. Loud noises and banging. Ominous music foreshadowing the darkness within, especially amongst the main characters in this film.

Academy Award nominee Saoirse Ronan is wonderfully astute as the artful dodger Maria, whose character arc moves from a level of a hapless and desperate teacher, to a shrewd and slick champion of deception.

Eddie Walker, as disruptive pupil Danny, has the perfect look of a stunted child, having fallen into the cracks of a broken system, a train-wreck of outdated belief systems unable to help him. He blends embittered anger with an underlying well of pity and vulnerability; that makes his performance all the more believable.

But the twisted role of little Pauline, excellently played by Nia Brown, cleverly hijacks the film in the most delicious of ways, particularly when singing her schools anthem with ‘dark lyrics’ while playing the keyboard at the parents/teacher meeting. A truer-than-true Boomtown Rat’s ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’ crescendo-peaking grab. A true cinematic delight for the mind-bending enthusiasts in the audience.

In all, Bad Apples, in all its irony, is a turbulent, suspenseful, see-saw ride of how twisted moments, however selfish, can sometimes provide even better outcomes. How the well-meaning seeds we may plant in our own orchard of life? May result in the greatest evolution: even within ourselves.

To book tickets to Bad Apples, please visit https://britishfilmfestival.com.au/films/bff26-bad-apples.

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Gioia Mia – Sweetheart

Italian Film Festival - Sweetheart (Gioia Mia)

Italian Film Festival – Sweetheart (Gioia Mia) Rating

★★★★★

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‘Gioia Mia’ or ‘Sweetheart’ is a gentle, coming of age film with a wonderful cast. It is a moving and thoughtful journey addressing abandonment and the young and old who have loved and lost, with secrets that still hurt. Written and directed by Margherita Spampinato in her feature film debut, we are enveloped in a young boy’s life where his only communication is with his phone.

Sent off to live with an old aunt who is full of regrets and frustration, the two clash as age, technology and a different way of life collide. Nico is played by Marco Fiore and his face flashes with obstinate retorts, trembles with hurt and sadness and finally beams with joy. Every event and conversation sweeps across his face. His aunt, Gela, played by Aurora Quattrocchi, is the classic, traditional religious aunt who has shut herself and her heart away. Her life is acted out quietly with restraint but with a fullness of emotion as she and Nico spark against each other as both are at different ends of a lifecycle. They learn how to bond and there are sweet moments as Nico moves from technology to tradition and Gela accepts him into her heart.

 

Without giving away the gentle plot, there is a tribe of grandmas hilariously offering advice when none is requested. They bake sugar cookies as that is their answer to grief, shouting orders from balconies in the traditional way whilst others use technology. It is a fading world in a beautiful fading town. The women have gone through life together and forgiven what could be as they observe their grandchildren play and grow.

A group of children is feisty with the leader, Rosa, a growing young girl played by Martina Miami, resenting an outsider. Martina is a foil to Nico as they clash and reject each other. They finally recognise they are both abandoned children with similar feelings, they bond together and there is a lovely sense that all will be right in the end.

With shades of ‘Cinema Paradiso’, the glorious Italian light is a backdrop adding to a sense of the summer heat and oppressiveness of life and emotions. With an emphasis on close up cinematography all of the acting is in the faces and is played without over-dramatising for effect. That being said, it is Marco Fiore and Aurora Quattrocchi who hold our attention and draw us in.

To book tickets to Italian Film Festival – Sweetheart (Gioia Mia), please visit https://italianfilmfestival.com.au/films/iff26-sweetheart.

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ÁRRU

Hurtigruten Nordic Film Festival Opening Night Reception And Premiere Screening of ÁRRU

Hurtigruten Nordic Film Festival Opening Night Reception And Premiere Screening of ÁRRU Rating

★★★★★

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What happens when the person you rely on to save almost everything you know and love also turns out to be a monster? Can you walk away? How do you negotiate the constant challenges to life and culture? Do the young want to carry on the flame? These are some of the core questions in Árru, Elle Sofe Sara’s striking debut feature focusing on the lives and culture of the Sami people that inhabit the Sápmi region of Norway, Sweden, and Finland. What better film to represent the unified yet separate cultures showcased at the 2026 Nordic Film Festival.

Using a mixture of genre styles, from surreal cinema, family drama, to musical, Árru starts in white snows of winter covering a vast, almost empty landscape. After the bloody miscarriage of a reindeer, traditional herder Maia (Sara Mariell Gaup Beaska) buries the tiny body in the snow. Together with her brother Danel (Simon Issát Marainen) and daughter Ailin (Ayla Garen Nutti), they continue the rustic life of the Sami, tending to their reindeer, killing and butchering them for meat and clothing. After the snow retreats for summer, the vast grasslands of summer form the backdrop of the narrative drama. We learn that a mining conglomerate is planning to build a large copper mine, reducing the grazing land available. This will force a mass culling of the reindeer and with it the destruction of Maia’s livelihood and her way of life.

 

 

Leading the fight is Maia’s charismatic lawyer brother Lemme (Mikkel Gaup), who successfully campaigned against a similar situation in Canada. As he rallies the community through protest and song, Maia and Danel remain wary around Lemme. This reluctance to embrace their possibly saviour and Lemme’s grip of power over his family and the town threatens Maia’s relationship with Ailin, one of his strongest advocates. The film then slowly reveals Lemme’s real character. First, Ailin discovers that Lemme is not as trustworthy as she first believed, and then a drunken confession by Danel at a celebration of culture reveals a dark past that shatters the community. They need Lemme to save their way of life, but can they still allow him to live amongst them.

Sara uses music and song throughout to connect Maia with her ancestors and home, and is clearly an important life of Sami culture. Musical numbers sometimes break the dramatic flow of the film, but remaining beautiful and interesting. During one of the protests, however, traditional song turns into a music video style dance number that seemed like an odd stylistic choice and a bold contrast to the grounded realism of the drama. But that wasn’t enough to pull me out. The performances were authentic and powerful, especially Simon Issát Marainen, who at first seemed brooding and surly but then when we discover why, draws from us empathy and understanding. And while the dramatic narrative forms the core structure of the film and provides plenty of intrigue and conflict, the most appealing part of the film for me was just spending time with the last remaining indigenous group in Europe.

Árru can be seen as part of the Nordic film festival playing nation wide at Palace Cinemas.

To book tickets to Hurtigruten Nordic Film Festival Opening Night Reception And Premiere Screening of ÁRRU, please visit https://nordicfilmfestival.com.au/films/nor26-arru.

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The Last Resort

The Last Resort (Paradis)

The Last Resort (Paradis) Rating

★★★★★

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1

There is a distinct, intoxicating alchemy to a film festival. To step into a dark theater is to willingly surrender your worldview, trading it for another culture’s lens, another creator’s gaze. This sense of cinematic discovery was palpable at Sydney’s Nordic Film Festival preview of ‘The Last Resort’ (originally titled ‘Paradis’). Directed by Maria Sødahl, this Danish-Norwegian tour de force arrives with the heavy prestige of the Göteborg Film Festival’s 2026 Dragon Award for Best Nordic Film—an honor that, by the time the house lights rise, feels profoundly earned.

On its shimmering surface, Sødahl’s narrative opens as a postcard of contemporary European leisure. We follow a seemingly picture-perfect Danish family as they descend upon an all-inclusive resort in Gran Canaria. The scenery is predictably intoxicating: a sun-drenched coast, an oasis of luxury, and the effortless hospitality of an island sanctuary.

Yet, as the title implies, this “paradise” is a beautifully constructed trap.

With surgical precision, Sødahl peels back the glossy veneer of tourism to expose a rot of socio-political tension. What begins as an intimate holiday drama gradually develops into a razor-sharp psychological and ethical dissection of Western privilege, complicity, and the quiet violence of denial.

 

 

The film’s emotional spine rests on the formidable shoulders of Mikkel (Espen Smed, ‘A Fortunate Man’) and Louise (Danica Ćurčić, ‘Unruly’). Both deliver masterclasses in restraint. Initially, they are the archetype of a stable, affluent modern couple. But as the narrative collides with the brutal reality of a local refugee crisis, Smed and Ćurčić brilliantly map the hairline fractures spreading across their characters’ relationship, forcing them—and us—to confront the boundaries of their comfortable empathy.

It is here that ‘The Last Resort’ delivers its most devastating critique, aiming its lens directly at the hypocrisy of modern “performative morality.” Mikkel and Louise at first glance are extremely compassionate and socially aware, yet, when faced with real-life consequences, their actions pivot toward self-protection. Sødahl creates an uncomfortable tension between who these characters *think* they are and what they are actually willing to do when their comfort is leveraged.

In a brilliant narrative counterweight, the children, Sille and Ella, offer a quiet, heartbreaking contrast to the adults. In their uncorrupted gaze, we see that moral apathy is not an innate human trait, but a learned defense mechanism.

Visually, the film is a triumphs of subtext. The cinematography weaponizes the beautiful landscape to reflect the bigger themes of the film. There is a profound eloquence to the framing; frequently, a choice of scenery speaks volumes more than the heavy silences hanging between the actors.

‘The Last Resort’ is not a comfortable watch, nor does it aspire to be. It is an urgent, slow-burning piece of morally complex cinema that refuses to offer easy absolution. Long after the credits roll, it lingers like a fever, demanding that we look into the mirror and ask ourselves: “What would we do if the world’s tragedies arrived at the edge of our sunlounger?”

For lovers of deeply reflective, high-stakes psychological storytelling, this is an absolute masterclass. Do not miss it.

To book tickets to The Last Resort (Paradis), please visit https://nordicfilmfestival.com.au/films/nor26-the-last-resort.

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